s a
cigarette on the stage." The German proletariat cannot be susceptible
to externals, else the universal sad-coloured skirt, the ill-fitting
blouse and the ugly hat worn by his women-folk could not find favour
in his eyes.

Life in Altheim has changed under war conditions. The Kur Haus is
closed, there are no teas on the Terrace or promenadings to the
strains of Grieg or Strauss, or theatrical performances. The German
Kur-Gaeste have left, and only the Russian, English and a few Belgian
prisoners of war remain. Russians here are chiefly of a very low
class. Most of the women go about bareheaded, and all are rough and
unkempt and dirty-looking. I fancy some of them have suffered much
privation, but happily their order of release has come. They will have
to travel by Denmark, Sweden and across to Petrograd. The weather is
autumnal, and they have only summer clothes, like us. We cannot help
them, having so little money ourselves. I have had to borrow twice,
and tried to sell my jewellery without success, but I have developed a
latent and unsuspected talent for laundry work. The pretty summer
shops in the Park Strasse are now closed, and the sound of beating
mattresses is heard everywhere; the blinds of most of the villas are
drawn down, and the families having no longer lodgers have descended
to their winter quarters on the ground floor. Only a few _einspaenners_
are left, as both _Kutschers_ and horses are gone to meet a
"Heldentod" for their Fatherland.

One sees white-capped nurses and Red Cross Ambulance men and wounded
and bandaged warriors everywhere. When recovered, the soldiers get
three days leave to visit their families, and then return to the
Front. Poor souls! Shops are chiefly tended by women nowadays, and
the German Frau is not a capable shopkeeper like the French woman. A
"Drogerie" here is presided over by the wife of the man who owns it,
in his absence at the war. She is a gentle, rather pretty creature,
but amazingly slow and stupid. If tooth-powder be asked for, she
mounts a ladder, searches among a hundred bottles, shakes her head
despairingly, and wonders where her "Mann" has put it. Outside her
Kueche and house, the German woman does not shine, but she is a
faithful unselfish wife, and a good and affectionate mother. Mr. Ives
thinks we shall certainly get away next week. I hope so! The weather
is cold and rainy, and there is no fire-place in my room.

_September 13th._--The Altheim daily papers